Everyone Else Be Damned
by iluvtorun
Summary: Based on 2x14 spoilers and pictures. Rampant speculation on my part. Felicity follows up a lead of Tockman alone after he destroys the servers at the Foundry. Olicity and really a little Smiggle if you squint, but set after 2x13, so mostly a bunch of messy angst. Supposed to be a oneshot, but I don't think that's gonna happen. T for language.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Rampant speculation from the 2x14 promo pics and trailer. Probably off base, but whatever, hopefully it will entertain us all while they are on mini-hiatus. Unbeta-ed and barely edited, so all the mistakes are mine. Unlike the characters.  
_

Felicity sat on her couch, tapping her finger against the edge of her tablet in frustration. She still couldn't believe that Tockman had succeded in accessing their servers at the Foundry. She had designed the firewalls herself, and while she knew nothing was impenetrable to a skilled hacker, she considered them damn close. Tockman's taunt ran through her head again and again as she waited . . . Waited for Oliver, who was MIA on an "evening out" with Sara, to finally return their calls; waited for John, who was out attempting to track down Oliver. She had told him it was ridiculous, that there was nothing that could be done tonight. The computers at the Foundry had been damaged beyond repair—she would have to order new servers and start from the ground up first thing in the morning. Dig had managed to put out the fire that had been caused when the servers had exploded. It could have been worse, if it had happened when they were gone, their entire lair could have burnt, if not the entire building. But the damage was contained to only the computers.

Well, at least the visible damage. She heard Tockman's voice again, an mp3 entrenched in the code that had started streaming as he had latched on to their systems. "_Are you home? Somewhere safe? Somewhere you think you're safe? . . . Where no one can get to you? ** But I can**_."

It had felt like home, until a few weeks ago, when it had suddenly felt overcrowded and awkward, and for the first time she had felt like maybe she didn't belong there, among four jaded warriors who had scars and stories to share. Well, Roy didn't have any scars anymore, thanks to the _mirakuru_. . . but still. She had still felt safe there though, until tonight. She sighed and shifted impatiently, pulling up another access point on her tablet and trying again to find a trace of Tockman's attack on the offsite backup server she had set up to mirror the servers at the Foundry. She'd been looking ever since Dig had left, nearly an hour ago, but had no luck so far. She tried a different approach this time though, and was rewarded with a tiny breadcrumb. A little blip in the code. "Gotcha," she said under her breath. She followed the breadcrumbs.

It only took her five minutes to get an address. He was near the courthouse, in the basement of a building awaiting demolition. She picked up her phone and tried Dig first. His phone went straight to voicemail. She cursed and hung up, considering. If they waited, they could lose him. It had already been over an hour since he had hit their systems—he could already have moved on to another location. Or he could still be there. Or he could be preparing to leave. _Damn it all_. She did not want a repeat of the incident with the Count a few months before, where she had stupidly allowed herself to be taken and held as leverage against Oliver. She couldn't continue to be the weakest point in this team. But at the same time, she couldn't let this lead slip past them. She grabbed her jacket, and dialed Oliver's number as she headed out the door, just as a formality. He hadn't answered after the initial attack, and hadn't called either her or Diggle back. She doubted he would pick up now. She wasn't wrong.

xxx

Diggle said goodbye to Detective Lance, apologizing again for intruding on him at home. Fucking Oliver was still MIA. He hadn't wanted to go knocking on Lance's door, but a cyber attack on the lair was something he should be aware of. Oliver had a tracker in his Arrow boots, but right now he was Oliver Queen and he wasn't answering his phone. Felicity would have been able to track his phone, if the servers at the Foundry hadn't just been flambéed beyond recognition, but then if the servers hadn't been flambéed he wouldn't fucking need to find Oliver, now would he? After checking the mansion, where he really didn't expect to find him, and a few other of Oliver's regular haunts, Dig had become desperate. He didn't like leaving Felicity alone, because things had been off with her the last few days, and watching the computers spark in to flames sure as shit wasn't helping matters much. She wouldn't talk to him, or anyone, about what was bothering her, but it was there in her eyes, plain as day for anyone who was paying attention to see.

Because he had said he would be out with Sara, Diggle had eventually resorted to paying Detective Lance a visit. Lance had been an unusually talkative mood, which may have had a little something to do with Oliver crashing the first sit-down dinner Lance had been able to talk all of the women in his family in to in _six fucking years_. Christ, but he didn't know what that kid was thinking ninety percent of the time. Why on earth he felt the need to put himself smack center of the Lance's family saga, he couldn't understand. It was clear he and Sara had a _thing_ going on, which no one seemed willing to talk about. Which Diggle could sort of understand, because Sara was wicked smart and skilled in combat, but that was without considering the train wreck of a history Oliver had not only with her, but with her sister. But the while the "thing" with Sara was not openly discussed, it too was obvious if anyone was paying attention. Just like Felicity's unspoken discomfort these past few weeks . . . which was when Sara had been resurrected and had suddenly taken a firm place in all of their lives. He suspected those two little unspoken yet obvious things had more than a little to do with one another. He scrubbed his hand over his face and groaned. According to Lance, dinner hadn't ended well. Some things had been said, and some things had been thrown. Both of the Lance girls had stormed off, and Oliver had given chase. After which one, Lance wasn't certain, but it was obvious whatever ground Oliver had gained with the good Detective in the past six months or so had quickly been shot to shit.

He pulled out his phone to check it, and cursed when he realized he had missed a call from Felicity. He had muted his phone before going in to talk to Lance. The call was from a good ten minutes before. He quickly dialed her back.

"Dig," she said. And he could swear he heard a car whoosh by her. Which didn't make a fucking lick of sense because he had left her on her couch in her damn apartment.

"Felicity . . . " he said cautiously. "Where are you?"

"Ummm," she said. _Fuck_. This wasn't going to be good. "I'm over by the courthouse." He waited for her to give him more. "I . . . I traced Tockman's hack. I tried to call you, but he may be on the move and I didn't want us to miss the chance."

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. _Where in the FUCK was Oliver. He remembered Oliver's words, on the night Felicity had first become a part of this team, a year ago. _We can protect her_. There is no _we_ when Oliver wouldn't answer the fucking phone. "Where, Felicity?" He demanded. She rattled off an address. A good thirty minutes across town. FUCK!

"I'm on my way. For God sake, Felicity, do NOT go in there before I get there." Even as he said it. He knew she wouldn't listen. Her sense of self preservation was far outweighed by her desire to do what was right. He ran to his car, trying Oliver one more time as he put it in gear and sped across town. _You've reached_ . . . "Fuck!" he yelled. As a last ditch effort, he dialed Sara. And was shocked as shit when she picked up.

xxx

Sara couldn't believe what a fiasco dinner had become. She hadn't wanted to face it alone, so she had foolishly, oh so foolishly, agreed when Oliver had offered to come with her. She wasn't sure what she had been thinking. She hadn't wanted to go at all, but he had always been persuasive and while many things had changed abou t him in those six years since she had gone on the Gambit with him, that hadn't. So before she really had known what was happening, she had agreed to go, if he would come to. She hadn't been thinking about a damn thing except having a friendly face to look at if Laurel started spewing more of her anger in her direction. _You ruined my life_. She gunned the Arrow's bike, and relished in the speed, letting the wind wash the memories and the tears away.

Dinner had been okay for, oh, maybe ten minutes. Awkward, but okay. Her dad had been in a better place as far as Oliver was concerned than she was expecting. Her mom too. But then, she had told her mom, before she had left, that she thought she was in love with him. Her mother wanted nothing but her happiness. It wasn't that Laurel _didn't_ want her to be happy. She just was so far down her own shit-hole of a life right now, she couldn't see which way was up, yet thinking about Sara's happiness. And what in the world did it say about her, as a sister, that she hadn't considered that? She was so used to thinking only of herself, of surviving from one moment to the next, that she had forgotten what it was like to be a part of something bigger—of a family where your choices might hurt another person. She had seen Laurel's eyes tighten when she had seen Oliver standing just behind Sara at her father's apartment door. She hadn't really asked Ollie what had happened between them, not in detail, and it occurred to her that maybe she should. It was probably a conversation they should have had before they launched back in to each other, but at the time, she had (once again) forgotten that her actions could have a profound effect on those around her. She was not only a part of a family again, but she was also a part of a team.

She whipped the bike around a tight corner and gunned the bike again. Ten minutes of semi-normalcy until the shit had hit the fan. The insults, and a glass, had started flying, and Laurel had come unhinged. She closed her eyes at the memory. She wasn't sure what had clued her sister in—a look or a touch or something one of them had said, but it had made her come unglued. "You couldn't even wait a few weeks before getting back in his pants again, could you Sara?" Laurel had screamed at her. The worst part was that Laurel had been wrong. It hadn't been anywhere near a few weeks . . . it had been more on the scale of _hours_. God, she sincerely hoped Laurel never found out that part of it. The guilt from this was bad enough. Part of her longed to go back to the simplicity of her former life. . . do the job, stay alive, and move on. Simple rules to live by. Laurel had fled, and she had tried to give chase. Oliver had touched her shoulder, and told her he would take care of it. She had let him go after her, because what in the hell would she say to her sister when she caught up to her? There was nothing she could say to make any of this right, or to take away her hurt or pain. Laurel was drowning, but Sara couldn't help her because she had been swimming alone for so long, she had forgotten how to do anything but keep her own head above water.

She had gone to the Foundry, expecting to find Felicity, Roy or maybe Diggle hanging around—one of them was almost always there in the evenings. Instead, she had found a ruin of soot and smoke, empty and dark. She had grabbed her Canary leathers and Oliver's bike and headed out to clear her head. Because even Oliver's friends, her "team", was outside of her comfort zone.

Her phone rang, and she touched her Bluetooth to answer it. "Hello?"

"Sara." She heard relief in John Diggle's deep voice, and slowed the bike to a slightly less insane speed so that she could hear him better. "Where are you?"

She glanced around. "Washington and Fifth."

"Ah, finally a fucking break. Go to 2949 Allenson, NOW. Felicity has a location on Tockman, and I'm worried she may engage."

"Alone?" She asked, incredulous. She was already spinning the bike and gunning it. Thinking of Oliver's tiny assistant, trying to take down the man who had alluded the police for months.

"She couldn't reach me. Tockman breached the servers at the lair." Sara thought of the ruined black pillars in the lair. Another sign of her failure in this resurrected life. Why hadn't she thought to reach out to Dig, or Felicity, to make sure that they were okay?

"What about Ollie?" Sara asked, cutting on to Allenson.

"I can't reach him. Do you know where he is?"

She thought of him going after Laurel. "No clue." And it wasn't a lie. She knew who he was probably with, but not where. It really didn't matter right now, anyway. She could see Felicity, in a white pencil skirt, a leather jacket, and high heels. Christ, she knew the woman was tiny, but she was going to have a serious discussion with her about what to wear into the field. "I see her," she told Dig. And then she tapped the ear piece, disconnecting the call.

xxx

Felicity's eyes widened when she saw the bike swing in front of her, and she breathed a sigh of relief that Oliver was here, and she wasn't going to have to do this alone. And then the helmet came off, and she felt her heart sink a little. Because it was Sara, in full Canary garb. _ Where in the world was Oliver? _

Sara stepped toward her. "Where?" She asked. Felicity had to appreciate Sara . . . she was all business when it was necessary.

"Basement, there," she said, pointing toward the door down the alley.

Sara nodded. "Stay here," she said. "You are in no way ready for a fight." And then Sara was sprinting down the alley toward the door that would lead to the basement. Felicity watched her for two beats, Sara's words ringing in her ears. She was a liability out here, in the field. Outside of her comfort zone, certainly. Sara was as well trained as a woman could be.

Then she shook her head, and reminded herself that it was _her _that Tockman had taunted and engaged. Sara may be a badass trained assassin, but Tockman was, at heart, a hacker, just like her. She wasn't about to sit on the street corner and wait for news, like some damsel in distress. She would do what she could to help. She headed down the alley as fast as her designer knock-off high heels would allow.

She pulled the door open and padded quietly down the stairs. There was a narrow hallway with four doors, two to each side. She froze and listened. She couldn't hear anything, but she could tell only one door was opened. As quietly as she could manage, she slipped carefully toward the open door. She peeked around the frame and could see a wide room with surprisingly beautiful tile on the ground. There were scaffoldings and several ladders, indicating that at some point in the recent past, the room had undergone renovations that had stopped unexpectedly. Probably when the undertaking had ravaged the city, if she were to take a guess. Her eyes widened as she saw a squirrelly looking man in glasses hidden in a dark corner, about three feet from the doorway. She followed his line of sight and almost cursed when she saw Sara slink into view, bo staff at the ready and looking carefully around. The only problem was that she was facing _away _from Tockman.

Tockman stepped out from the corner, gun lifting. He raised a hand. "Tick tock," he declared, calling Sara's attention to him. "Your time has come." Sara spun the staff in her hands, but Felicity knew that even as fast as she was, she wouldn't be able to dodge a bullet from this man. He was too far away for her to reach him, but close enough that Sara wouldn't be able to dodge every shot he fired. "Tick tock," he said again, in an almost sing song voice. "Your time of death is here."

Felicity couldn't wait anymore. She launched herself toward him, yelling "HEY!" to draw his attention away from Sara. He spun toward her, and fired. She felt a red hot pain in her shoulder as she simultaneously heard a loud "boom". Sara crashed in to him then, and Felicity didn't know what happened next, because all she saw was a blaze of white in front of her eyes, flecked with black dots, as the pain overtook her. She realized she was on the floor, and Christ did her shoulder hurt.

She felt a hand on her waist, and heard Sara's voice. "Easy, Felicity."

Tockman started in again. "Tick tock, you can't stop death. Delay, maybe, but never stop. Tick tock, the clock keeps counting down."

Sara raised her hands toward him. "Look, no one has to die tonight, okay?"

Felicity gritted through the pain. "You aren't as good as you think you are," she said, hating how her voice sounded.

Tockman tilted his head at her, and she took that to mean he hadn't been expecting her to say anything.

"That's how we found you, you know," Felicity said. Sara looked down at her, meeting her eyes, and Felicity knew she should continue to distract him. "You left a trail, when you burnt my servers to the ground. You didn't think about a ghost server. But I had one, and I followed your trail right back here."

"Hmmmm," Tockman hummed. "Your firewalls were good, but I was better."

"But we're here, so maybe I'm better," Felicity said. It lost some of its effect, though, because tears from the pain in her shoulder slid down her cheeks. Her hand was slippery with her own blood.

"Ahhh," Tockman said, tilting both hands out in a shrug. "But I have a gun, so I think that makes me the winner." There was a gleam in his eye, and Felicity knew that he was about to go back to his little time of death tick-tocking, but Sara took that brief moment of abstraction to pull a knife from somewhere in her jacket and threw it. Not towards him, but towards the electronics panel immediately to his right. There was a huge spark, and in the darkness that followed, the Canary was on the hunt. She put him down within seconds, retrieving her bow staff and striking him in the neck. She pulled the blow, meaning to stun rather than kill, but she wasn't sure it was enough, and with Felicity already bleeding on the ground, she couldn't afford a lesser plan of attack.

When he fell, she kicked the gun away and knelt to check his pulse. It was then that she heard Ollie, rather than saw him. She heard a raw, nearly unintelligible sound, and saw a flash of green as he went to Felicity.

She rolled to her back, her hand still on her shoulder. "You're here . . . " she said, and Sara could hear surprise in her voice.

Ollie pushed the hood back, and so that Felicity could see him more clearly, and then he was opening her jacket. Sara could swear that every ounce of color drained from his face when he saw what was under there. She had known Oliver Queen for a long time, and she had seen him at some of his worst times. She had seen his face both times when he had been surprised to find her alive. He had seen his face when Shado had died, and when he had thought Slade had died. She had seen him look at Laurel, and at her. But she had never seen him look at anyone the way he was looking at Felicity Smoak in that moment. She couldn't even find the words to describe it.

"Fe . . . Felicity, what were you thinking?" He choked out.

Sara could hear sirens then. "She saved me," Sara said. Because unlike her, Felicity Smoak was well aware of the people around her. She might not be trained to fight, but she fought with her brain and her heart. "We need to move."

"You need a hospital," he said to Felicity, but she was already shaking her head side to side.

It was a feeble shake, though. "No. Dig. Dig can fix it, right."

He nodded at her. And Sara had to look away because Oliver looked completely wrecked. She took a deep breath, and set about rolling Tockman, who was indeed not dead, over so that she could tie him up for Starling City's finest. She closed her eyes against Felicity's cry of pain as Oliver picked her up. "Shhh," he said. "I've got you."

Sara opened the door for him, then went to the bike as Oliver headed the opposite direction with Felicity in his arms. She supposed he had a car there, or Dig was waiting with one. She hadn't even asked them where they were going. Would they go to their charred lair, or somewhere else? Sara gunned the bike again. She would drive until they called to let her know where to go. Maybe she would stop by the Foundry to see if they were there. She may have a great deal to remember about team, and family, but she would be damned if she would let any of them down again. She considered bravery, and family, and love, as again the wind washed away her tears. For someone who wasn't sure she could even remember how to cry, she had been doing it a lot lately.

xxx

Diggle nearly jumped out of skin when Oliver opened the door and climbed in. When he turned, his heart bottomed out when he saw Felicity, lying too still and too pale against Oliver's green leather. Her jacket was open, and her yellow blouse had a bloom of red on it, a bright contrast of color against Oliver's green. Oliver pulled the mask off and looked at Dig, his eyes tortured as he pressed his gloved hand over her shoulder.

"She needs a hospital," Oliver choked out. "But she said she wants you to do it."

"Where?" Dig asked.

Oliver shook his head. "Dig, please." And John realized then that Oliver wasn't in the mental state to make any sort of decisions right now. He had a sizeable first aid kit in the trunk, and she would need comfort more than secrecy. The secrecy of the lair was for Oliver, and for him, who had to hide their injuries from the people in their lives. But Felicity didn't have anyone else. She didn't need to hide. He had learned, during the aftermath of the Undertaking, that the people who were currently in this car with her were the only ones who would check up on her. And one of those assholes had run half way around the world then.

"Sara okay?" He asked, turning the corner and gunning it toward Felicity's apartment.

"Yeah." Oliver said. "She said Felicity saved her." His voice was raw, and as pissed as Dig was at him right now, he felt for him. Hearing Oliver that scared for her scared him more than a little too. "She passed out when I moved her, John." Digg peaked in the rearview and saw Oliver cup Felicity's cheek. "Just stay with me Felicity. Stay with me. You're not losing me, and I'm not losing you."

They got there, and Dig pulled the first aid kit and a blanket from the back of the car. He also grabbed Oliver's go bag, packed with a spare change of clothes. "Wrap her in this, and then give her to me. I'll take her upstairs and get started while you change."

He saw a wild look in Oliver's eyes and he started to argue.

"She can't wait, and you can't go up there dressed in green! We don't have time to argue, Oliver!" Dig was done. He wanted to get her upstairs and make sure she was okay, that he hadn't inadvertently signed her death warrant by taking her here instead of a hospital. He settled her gently against his chest and carried her to her apartment. Thankfully, they didn't pass a single soul who would question what he was doing carrying her around in a black shipping blanket.

Oliver was there when he got to her apartment, he wasn't sure how, but he was. He used her key and opened the door for Dig. Dig carried her in, heading straight for her bedroom.

"Strip back the comforter," he demanded. Oliver did it, and he laid her down, pulling off her jacket and her shirt. Oliver was there dabbing at the wound with gauze as he examined it. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the wound. It went straight through her shoulder, in just about the best place it could have. He dabbed and did what he needed to. When he started to stitch her up, Oliver cursed and left the room, slamming the door as he went. The door opened again a short while later, and he was surprised when Sara appeared.

"I thought maybe you'd bring her here," she said softly. To his surprise, she took Felicity's hand. "How is she?"

"I think she's good," he said, finishing the stitches. He started to ask Sara for the dressing, but she was already putting it on. He forgot that she had probably patched herself up as many times as Oliver had. It was hard, seeing her in street clothes, to reconcile the beautiful woman with the deadly assassin that wore that black leather.

Without asking, Sara gently rolled Felicity to her stomach so he could stitch the exit wound.

"She's very brave," Sara said softly.

Dig nodded. "And loyal, and selfless, and fearless."

"He loves her." It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact, and it too surprised him. Sara pulled some things out of her jacket, and Dig realized it was blood, from Oliver's stash at the Foundry, along with some IV tubing. "This will work for her?" He nodded, and she started the IV.

His jaw worked as he thought about Sara's statement. He focused on the stitches, trying to keep them neat and tight so that the scar wouldn't be too bad. A hospital would have done better, but there would have been so many questions.

He placed the dressing on her back and gently rolled her back over, smoothing her hair out of her face. "All done, Felicity," he said softly.

"Did you give her anything for the pain?" Sara asked, taking her hand again.

"She passed out by the time he got her to the car." He pulled out a syringe from the bag and handed it to her. "Give this to her in maybe in 30 minutes? Sooner if she looks like she'll wake up."

Sara nodded. "Thank you for trusting me with her," she said softly.

Again John was surprised. "You helped her."

"I got her shot."

Apparently shouldering the guilt was a vigilante thing. "Tockman shot her."

"She was trying to save me."

"She'd probably be dead if you hadn't answered my call. So thank _you_."

Tears pooled in her eyes, and she scrubbed at them furiously with the back of her hand. "God, I almost wish I _had _forgotten how to cry."

John turned, needing to go deal with Oliver. But then he thought of what Sara had said earlier, and turned back to her. Maybe Sara should have some small understanding of the minefield she was walking in. "I think he loves her too, for the record. But he doesn't know it. She sure as _shit_ doesn't know it. After the earthquake, he ran, mostly because of Tommy. But she stayed, and she always thought he'd come back. And when he didn't she went and _brought _him back. She's all alone, except for us. The rest of us have someone, but Felicity, we're all she has. He forgets that. So maybe he doesn't love her at all, or else he would see that."

Sara nodded. "I know a little something about that. When you spend every day just trying to survive, you forget to see the bigger picture." She scrubbed at her face again and sniffed, looking every part the scared girl instead of the world weary assassin.  
Gotta work on that one."

He nodded. "I'm here, Sara, if you ever need help working through that." He didn't know what made him offer it, but he did anyway. Now, though, he had to go deal with Oliver. That would be fun.

He walked into the living room, and found Oliver doing pushups next to the coffee table. He couldn't sit and hold her hand while Dig stitched her up ,but he could do pushups in the next room. Dig lost it.

"Where the _fuck_ were you, Oliver?" When Oliver had called him back, a good ten minutes after Oliver had sent Sara after Felicity, Dig had simply demanded to know where he was and had picked him up, throwing his go bag at him as he climbed into the back seat. He had updated him on the situation and hadn't said much else to him, because at the time it hadn't mattered. All that mattered was making sure Felicity was safe.

Oliver pushed back onto his knees, his toes tucked under him. He put his hands on his knees and refused to look up at Dig. "There was a situation . . ."

"Yeah, the fucking situation was that the servers got hacked, we had a fire at the Foundry, and _we couldn't reach you_."

"Laurel lost it, okay? She almost killed herself, and I needed . . ."

Rage, white hot and dangerous, coursed through Dig. He wondered if this is how Roy felt all the time. "Laurel?"

Oliver closed his eyes. "You can't say anything to me I haven't already said to myself." It was so soft Dig could hardly hear him.

"She could have _died _Oliver. You said we could protect her. But you didn't fucking answer your fucking phone."

Oliver started to speak, but Dig wasn't sure he could take it. He lowered his voice, mindful of the fact Sara was in the next room. "I understand things are fucked up, with your mom and all, but holy SHIT Oliver, why do you keep dipping back into this shit with the Lance sisters? Did you not consider that you and Sara falling back into bed together would have a fucking impact on Laurel, who should be a fucking program, I may add, before you add that on top of it? And what part of you going to their first family dinner in SIX YEAR, six fucking years, seemed like a good idea to you?"

Oliver looked up at him them, and Dig almost felt sorry for him, because he looked like hell. His eyes were red, and so anguished that he felt heavier just seeing it. He would have felt sorry for him, had he not spent the past half hour putting stitches in Felicity's formerly flawless alabaster skin.

"I didn't think about it like that," Oliver said.

"OF COURSE NOT!" Digg roared. "Because you didn't think! You don't think, Oliver!"

He pointed to the closed bedroom door. "You don't think about her—you didn't think about her when you ran to Lian Yu. You didn't think for a minute how that second device fucked with her head, or how responsible she felt. You didn't think about her, how whatever happened at your mother's rally affected her, or how you falling into bed with Sara Lance immediately after affected her."

Oliver looked at him with utter confusion in his eyes. "What?"

Dig sank on the couch and scrubbed his hands over his face. "You are a fucking idiot." Honestly, he had no idea what to say at this point.

"We never said we were together."

Dig just stared at him. "_Fucking idiot_." He reinterated.

Oliver scrubbed his hand over his face. "She knew?"

"Jesus, Oliver, do you not remember how smart that woman is?"

"Did she tell you about what happened with my mother?" He asked softly.

"Nope."

Oliver cleared his throat. "My dad wasn't Thea's biological father. Malcolm Merlyn was."

And okay, Dig hadn't seen that one coming. "What?"

"Yeah." Oliver leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"How is she doing in there?"

"Sara or Felicity?" Dig asked, feeling the need to clarify.

"Jesus, John, do you really think so little of me?"

Honestly, Dig wasn't one to kick a man when he was down. And Oliver clearly _was _down. He was scared and confused. But he was damn tired of being in the fallout of all that. "Actually, right now, yes, I really do think that little of you. Because you weren't there for her Oliver. She needed you, needed _us_. And I was out looking for you because you were AWOL with your love triangle. It's just like it always has been. It's always Laurel, everyone else be damned. Except now maybe it's always Laurel, or Sara, I don't even know. She won't blame you. She'll never blame you because for whatever reason, she always sees the good in you. But she deserves better, Oliver. You make promises you can't follow through on all the time."

"She's the one person I don't lie to," Oliver said, and he sounded a little desperate.

"You said you would protect her."

"Laurel was chewing pills and standing on the edge of a building John. She was going to _jump_. I got her to sign herself into a rehab program, because she needs help."

"I'm not talking about Laurel. I'm talking about Felicity."

"I know, but if it wasn't life and death, I would have . . ."

"BUT IT WAS," he was roaring again. "IT WAS life and death, Oliver. It's always life and death, because of what we do. Don't you fucking see that? And we all have someone. Sara has her family, and you have your family, and I have my family. Felicity is ALONE, except for us, Oliver. Someone should put her first, because she puts all of us, all of _this_ first."

"I couldn't do this without her." He said, and Dig wasn't looking at him, but he could swear his voice broke.

"Well, if Sara hadn't picked up the phone tonight, you would be. We all would be. So either man the fuck up and come hold her hand, or get out."

He didn't look at Oliver. He couldn't, because he was afraid he would go ballistic if he saw sorrowful resignation there. He opened the door to Felicity's room and went to sit in the arm chair across the room from her bed. He was surprised to see Sara Lance had curled up carefully next to Felicity, and had fallen asleep, despite the fact that John had been railing at the top of his lungs at Oliver. She was the biggest surprise of this evening. He hadn't been entirely sure about her, beyond her kick-ass abilities to fight, but he saw now that she was devoted, and loyal. She was definitely more than a little lost, but at least _she _could admit it.

He heard the moment that the front door opened, and clicked shut as Oliver left. _God damn it_. He was going to have to be the one to explain to Felicity why he wasn't here when she woke up. He didn't deserve her.

_Shit. This was supposed to be a one-shot. And now I've gone and written myself into a corner. I A six thousand word corner at 2am. I didn't mean for all the angst. Sorry/Not Sorry. Hope you enjoyed. Will probably try for another chapter from Oliver's point of view to fix this trainwreck. _


	2. Chapter 2

Escape. He had to escape. Dig's words rang in his head. Even as the door shut behind him, and a part of him screamed that he was going in the wrong direction, that everything he needed and wanted was back in that apartment, Oliver knew he needed to run. He was down the stairs and heading to the car, wishing the quick drum of his feet on the stairs would drown out the echoes in his mind.

_She almost died._

_Where the fuck were you?_

_She almost died._

He had scrubbed his hands in her kitchen sink and watched her blood run down the drain.

_HER BLOOD._

In the past six years that his life had become hell, there had been a lot of blood on his hands. But he never thought he would have her blood on his hands. Not Felicity's. She wouldn't be in this if it weren't for him. She was good to her core, and she stood up to him and challenged him and supported him and fucking believed in him when no one else would. And he hadn't be there when she needed him. He had three missed calls from her on his phone and a dozen more from Dig. She had tried to reach him, and when she couldn't, she chose to go in alone over doing nothing, because that was who she was. She wasn't reckless, but she wasn't going to stand by idle either.

_If Sara hadn't picked up the phone tonight . . ._ He could have lost her. Dig was certain he _would_ have lost her. 

_Someone should put her first._

He couldn't be that someone. He broke everything he touched. Laurel was the first and best example. Dig was right, he was a fucking idiot, because how had he not seen that this thing with him and Sara would be the final straw that broke her. _He _had broke her. He had thought things were over and done between them, so it hadn't occurred to him that the realization they were fucking again would send Laurel into a rage. But it had. He could still see the look of shock on Sara's face as Laurel belted a wine glass in her direction. _"You couldn't even wait a few weeks before getting back in his pants again, could you Sara?"_ And then he had seen the guilt in her eyes, because they had been barely waited hours after Sara's return. He hadn't considered the fallout, and neither had she. He knew they both had simply wanted to feel something other than pain. There had been enough pain. It was nice to feel something that wasn't pain, for a change. Pleasure and the bone deep exhaustion that came with a good fuck.

He was in the car then, and he couldn't help but glance in the back seat. _Her blood_ . . . red and smeared over the grey leather seats. Then he was back in that basement, seeing her on the ground for the first time, obviously injured and in pain. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. _"You're here . . ."_ She had sounded _surprised._ He hadn't answered her calls, and she was _surprised_ he had come for her. As if he wouldn't go to the ends of the earth to find her. It had been the surprise in her voice that had been the first cut to his soul. It was the hole in her shoulder that had been the second. She had needed him, and he hadn't been there.

_"She could have died, Oliver. You said we could protect her. But you didn't fucking answer your fucking phone." _He wished he could scrub Dig's words from his memory, but they wouldn't leave him alone.

He drove, much faster than he should, toward the Foundry. He didn't know where else to go. He supposed seeing the ruination there was a good place to start. As he drove, he thought of Laurel. Anything to keep from thinking about the blood in the back seat and on his hands and the ragged hole a bullet had torn through a woman who looked at him like she believed he could change the world. When Laurel had fled her father's apartment, he had followed her. She had climbed the stairs to the roof, much faster than he would have thought her capable of. It wasn't until they reached the roof that he saw the pill bottle in her hand. She was standing so close to the edge, he called out to her and took an involuntary step forward.

She had turned to face him, and it was then that he saw the bottle in her hands. "Stay back, Ollie," she called and she tossed back some of the pills. It wasn't until that moment that how bad things were for her had really hit home. He had seen her drunk, but in their past lives drunk wasn't a big surprise. But this, after all they had been through, was a shock.

"What are you doing, Laurel?"

"I'm so tired of all the bullshit, Ollie. I miss Tommy."

As always, the mention of Tommy tore a white hot pain through his chest. Except now there were extra layers of guilt to add to the mess. Tommy, who was dead because of him; who was as much Thea's blood brother as he himself was; who he had lied to about killing his father. And not only had he killed Tommy's father, but now he knew that he had killed _Thea's_ father. There must be a special circle of hell reserved _just_ for him. "I do too, Laurel. Every day."

She took a step backwards, and he had put his hands out in an effort to calm her, like he was approaching a wounded animal. "He wouldn't want this for you Laurel. He'd want you to be happy."

She laughed a bitter, souless laugh. "I _can't _be happy Ollie. I don't have anything left. My career is over. I don't have anyone left. Tommy's gone, and you're _still_ fucking my sister. Who isn't dead. And I wish she _were _dead, which says something about me as a person, doesn't it?" She took another step back.

And he had felt desperate, because he needed to stop her from doing this. Laurel was broken, and it was entirely his fault. He had broken her when he had made the choice to take Sara on the Gambit. He had hoped she would find out, so that she would lay the fuck off all of her talk of engagements and apartments. Instead, he had ruined Sara's life, stolen her innocence, and laid waste to the entire Lance family. And then he had come back and torn a new hole in everyone's life. He had let Tommy die. He couldn't fail Laurel now as he had failed her so many times over. "You don't mean that."

She laughed again. "But I do. I hate myself for it, _but I DO. _And I wish I were dead too, because I'm tired of all the pain."

Now that he could understand. "You have to find something to carry you past the pain."

"What, Ollie? What am I going to find to carry me past the pain? I have _nothing_."

"You have your family. Your mom and dad love you, Laurel. Sara loves you."

"Not enough to stay together for me, though. Only for Sara. _Sara_ comes back and they expect us to have family dinners, and pretend like nothing happened." She fumbled with the bottle and shook more pills out, swallowing them. "And I notice you didn't include yourself on that list. What happened to '_I'll never leave you_,' huh Ollie?"

"I'm standing right here," he said. "I've loved you for half my life, Laurel, and just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean I don't care about you. It doesn't mean I want to watch you throw your life away."

"WHAT LIFE?" She screamed. "THIS isn't a life!" She was coming even more unhinged. He knew he was going to have to get her away from that ledge, and soon.

He exhaled, and took another step toward her. "Our lives are what we make of them. We can't change the past. God knows there are _so_ many things I wish I could change, Laurel. I wish I could bring Tommy back. I wish . . . I wish a lot of things. But we only have _now_. If you aren't happy, you have to . . ." he searched for the words, the right words, and he thought of Felicity then. How strange he should have thought of her then, as he was on a roof trying to keep Laurel from becoming another name on the long list of deaths he was responsible for. "You have to find another way."

Laurel's face fell, the rage and anger giving way to sadness. She wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't know how. I'm all alone, and I don't know how."

He walked toward her then and pulled her into his arms. "You're not alone. There are a lot of people who care about you." She had collapsed into him, sobbing, and he had taken led her back to the stairwell. They took the elevator down to the first floor, and he loaded her into his car. As much as he wanted to believe her family could help her through this problem, he didn't think they could. She was so angry at all of them, and maybe rightfully so. So he drove her to a rehab facility on the edge of town, and he checked her in. She had kept her eyes downcast as she had signed the paperwork. He had given her a hug, and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Take care of yourself, Laurel." She hadn't even responded. Her eyes looked glassy and vacant. She hadn't died, but he certainly had broken her.

He had driven back to the Lances, wanting to explain to Quentin in person what had happened and where Laurel was. He had tried to ignore the harsh light in the man's eyes as he opened the door. Lance's jaw had been set in a hard line. "Haven't you done enough damage for one night?" He spit out. Oliver had realized that every bit of progress he had made with Lance had been lost.

Oliver had handed him a piece of paper with the rehab facility's information. "I took her here," he said. "And I am truly sorry."

Lance had looked at the paper, his hands fisting. Slowly, he had taken it. "Your body guard was looking for you." And then he had shut the door in Oliver's face. And Oliver had pulled out his phone, and the rest of his world had come crashing down.

Oliver came back to himself and realized he was parked outside the Foundry. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, remembering. And then he was remembering Dig's words again, bringing him full circle to the thing he was trying to forget. "_Because you weren't there for her Oliver. She needed you, needed us. And I was out looking for you because you were AWOL with your love triangle. It's just like it always has been. It's always Laurel, everyone else be damned". _He got out of the car and pulled out his gear bag, staring too long at the blood that was drying on the back seat. He would need to clean that up. _Her blood. His fault._

The minute he keyed in the code to the door and opened it, he could smell the smoke and burnt electronics. He turned on the lights and headed down the stairs, taking in the charred pillars that had once been Felicity's servers. He was assaulted with the memory of the pride shining in her eyes the first time she had brought him down here after he returned from Lian Yu the second time. Unbidden, he heard Dig's words from earlier echo in his head. _"You don't think about her—you didn't think about her when you ran to Lian Yu. You didn't think for a minute how that second device fucked with her head, or how responsible she felt". _

Diggle was right, he was a fucking idiot, because he hadn't thought about her, not like that. He had been so wrapped up in the loss of Tommy, in his failure to stop the Undertaking, that he hadn't considered for a second how it had affected her—that _she_ might feel responsible for all those deaths. While he had been drowning his pain in basic survival, she spent her time (and the money he had left her) turning this place into a high-tech marvel. She had gambled on his return, and when the gamble hadn't paid off she had searched him out. She had brought him home. She had turned this place into a home for all of them, instead of the dark den of desperation it had began as. He sat in her chair and put his head in his hands. He _didn't _deserve her. That's why he wasn't there holding her hand right now. He couldn't hold her hand, and look at her, knowing that he was directly responsible for the wound hidden under her bandages. Because he had brought her into this life, and just like Diggle had said (repeatedly), he _hadn't been there_.

He got up and pulled his leathers out of the gear bag, taking them to the bathroom. It felt like déjà vu as he rinsed her blood off them and watched it spiral down the drain.

_"If you're not leaving, I'm not leaving." _She was brave. And loyal. And _his partner_ for Christ-sake, and he hadn't been there. Worse, he wasn't there for her right now. He should be. God, he _wanted _to be. But he couldn't be the man she needed, the man she _deserved. _He was a shell. He broke everything he touched, and no matter how much she believed he was a better person than he thought he was, _he wasn't_.

This was a perfect example of that—him watching her blood spin endlessly down the drain. Eventually the water ran clean, and he hung things up to dry. Then he leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, his head in his hands, thinking about how much worse this could be. He could be sitting here, and she could _not _be across town in her bedroom with a hole in her shoulder. She could be cold and lifeless and drained of light. The thought made it hard to breathe. At some point he went and cleaned the drying blood out of the back of the car. Felicity's blood. _Felicity._

xxx

He became aware that someone had sat down next to him on the floor. People usually didn't manage to sneak up on him, but he wasn't exactly paying attention to anything. His mind was totally focused in wallowing in his guilt and making sure he felt every single inch of the well deserved pain of this situation.

There was a soft, feminine sigh. "Why are you down here, Ollie?" It was Sara, of course. No one else would come for him here. Felicity was recovering from a gunshot wound and Dig was furious with him. _Rightfully so. _He only shrugged.

"She's awake," she said softly, and he closed his eyes. He should have been there. "She asked for you." He gritted his teeth. "I don't understand any of this," she said, and he could feel her studying her face.

"I let her down," he ground out.

"Yes, but you helped Laurel. She needed help." Sara said softly. He had called her, after they had brought Felicity to her apartment; after he had bolted from the room because the sight of Felicity's blood all over his hands had made the bile rise in his throat until he had been certain he was going to vomit. He had killed more men that he could count, but the sight of Felicity's blood had turned his stomach inside on itself. He had told Sara about Laurel, and he had told her where they had brought Felicity. She deserved to know, after all. SHE had been there, when Felicity needed _him_.

"One doesn't excuse the other."

Sara placed her hand on his arm. "She's not dead, Ollie. I don't understand . . ." She looked like she was looking for the right words, and he quickly got up before she could find them. He didn't want to have this conversation. Nothing had changed.

Sara looked at him, confusion in her eyes. "You know, I thought you had a better handle on things, because you've been back longer than I have."

He shook his head. "I don't have a good handle on anything."

She considered him. "You know, until a couple of hours ago I was pretty sure you were still in love with Laurel, even after . . . everything." He knew she meant the fact that they had slept together. "Especially after the way you went after her."

He shook his head. "Not in a long time. We . . . once, and it was such a huge mistake. She and Tommy had just broken up, and I tried to push them back toward each other. And then she and I . . . and he saw. He knew, and then he died saving her. I couldn't save him either. It was too much bad history, there's no way we could ever be together again after that."

"The same applies here, doesn't it?" She asked gesturing between the two of them.

He sighed, and nodded. "I can't believe that I didn't think of the consequences." He said softly.

Sara nodded. "Same goes," she said. "You've been at this being back thing longer than me, but apparently we both suck at it." That almost made him smile. "You should tell her how you feel, you know."

His eyes went wide. For a second he thought she was talking about Laurel again, and then he realized she meant Felicity. He started shaking his head. "That can _never_ happen." He said. He probably should have denied something, but this was Sara, and he was so tired of lies.

"Why?" She asked.

"I can't lose her," he said, and there was absolute conviction in his voice. "And I break _everything_ I touch, Sara. _Everything_. Consider yourself as Exhibit A, and Laurel as Exhibit B. And when she's had enough, she'll walk away." His voice almost broke. "And I just can't . . ."

"So, what?" Sara said, anger starting to rise in her voice. "You're just going to not go check on her now?"

He shook his head. "I don't know." And it was the truth. He had no idea what he should do now. She had been shot, and maybe she would want to be done after this. The part of him that wanted her to be safe almost wanted her to walk away, and the part of him that knew he couldn't do this without her was terrified that she _would._

"She asked for you," Sara said again, slower and angrier this time.

He clenched his jaw. It was odd, that Sara was so vehement about this, especially considering they had woken up in each other's arms just this morning. Which made his stomach turn a little as he thought of it now. It seemed like a betrayal, when it hadn't this morning. "I _can't_."

"Why not?" He wasn't looking at her but he could hear the frustration in her voice.

_Because I'm afraid of what I'll see when she looks at me_. He couldn't say it out loud. He didn't say anything at all.

Eventually, Sara sighed, and quickly got up from the floor. "Whatever, Ollie. I'm going home."

After she left, he sank back down to the floor. But the damage had been done, because she kept hearing Sara's voice. _"She asked for you." _In the end, it was the thought of letting her down again that had him heading out the door. He was surprised to see the sun was shining brightly in the sky. Suddenly he couldn't get to her apartment soon enough.

xxx

Dig looked up as he came through her apartment door. He met his eyes, and exhaled. "Finally," he said. Oliver tried to think of something to say, but couldn't think of a damn thing. The need to see Felicity was gnawing at him. Dig just gestured to her bedroom door. "Just . . . go. She was awake a few minutes ago."

It was all the prompting he needed.

He stopped outside her door and took a steadying breath, telling himself that she had every right to be angry with him; preparing himself for what he might see in her eyes. Before he could second guess himself, he opened the door. She was sitting in bed, wearing a blue button-up shirt. Her arm was in a sling, and she had her glasses on. When she saw him, she made a little "oh" sound, and he watched as her eyes filled with tears. And then she smiled at him, a watery, warm smile and he broke. He was by her side in an instant, clasping her cool, small hand in his and pulling it against his his chest. He bent over her and pressed his forehead to hers, realizing that he was breathing heavily.

"Hey, shhh," she said softly. "It's okay, I'm okay."

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. She was laying in bed, and he hadn't been there, and _she was comforting him_. "How can you look at me like that after I wasn't there for you?"

She squeezed his hand back. He opened his eyes, their foreheads still touching, and met her still-watery blue eyes. "Not everything that happens is you fault." She said simply.

Dig was right, she wouldn't hold him responsible. There was a part of him that didn't understand how she could forgive him so easily.

"I was with _Laurel_," he said, thinking that perhaps now she would be angry, as Dig had been.

"Sara said she really lost it," Felicity said, surprising him. Sara had told Felicity what had happened?

"She almost killed herself."

Felicity nodded. "It's good that you were there for her. She needed you there." She pulled her hand from his, and brought her hand around his neck. Her finger stroked a small circle there.

He didn't understand. She should be angry. He had let her down. "I wasn't there," he said slowly, shaking his head, taking in the feeling of her hair brushing against his forehead and her hand on his neck.

"Oliver," she said slowly. "You were where you needed to be. I don't need you to swoop in and save me. I'm not some damsel in distress, I'm a part of this team, and sometimes, things happen."

He was shaking his head again. "Not to you."

She pulled back a little, her hand coming to cup his cheek. "That's ridiculous."

"You should be angry with me," he said, covering her hand with his, nuzzling into it ever so slightly.

"THAT is even more ridiculous," she said. "It's not like you made a choice between us Oliver, and I would never ask you to do that anyway. She needed help, and it sounds like you got that for her."

"And you could have _died_." He hated that his voice broke.

"Didn't happen," she said.

"I . . . I can't do this without you," he said softly, running the back of his hand along her jaw. It was the closest he could come to telling her how he really felt.

"You don't have to," she said. She scooted over, and he sat next to her on the bed. "So, you think Laurel will be okay?"

She baffled him. He shrugged. "I don't know. I feel responsible."

"Not your fault," she said quickly.

"Lance is back to hating me."

That made her laugh. "At least he doesn't hate the Arrow."

"At least."

And he knew that they would be okay. She would be okay, and she wasn't going to leave. Beyond all reason, she _still _believed in him. She made him want to be the kind of person who could deserve her, some day. Maybe one day.

_AN: Wow, thanks all for the generous reviews/responses to this story. I'm so glad everyone had enjoyed this. Prepare yourself for an overdose of Oliver angst. Sort of painful, but necessary. (And okay, now that I've written the whole thing, let me say VERY painful. I hate Oliver's angsty head, it's such a dark, sad place. For anyone who thinks Felicity lets him off 'too easy,' I think she knows he makes himself pay more than she ever could.)_


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